flames, flames on the side of my head
don’t read this if you don’t want to have your opinion of me fundamentally changed. i’m about to spew venomous frustration, and if you’re not ready to handle that, go read one of my warm and fuzzy entries.
i am mad.
it’s actually pretty rare that i get mad. you know, the kind of mad that sort of churns in the bottom of your stomach and makes you react before you think. i get annoyed a lot, but that’s momentary. it leaves pretty quickly. but to get angry? it doesn’t happen very often, but when it happens, it comes on fast and pretty powerfully.
i am freaking tired of being nice.
i am freaking tired of being kind.
i am freaking tired of putting myself out there, time after time, and getting jack back for it.
i am FREAKING tired of being passive-aggressive. sometimes i’d like to feel welcome to be aggressive-aggressive. i don’t have the guts to do it. that, too, makes me mad.
i just go off to the corner to lick my wounds, all content with my righteousness and that i rose above the temptation to be the lesser person. i sit there in the corner, wanting people to read my mind and realize that i am unhappy and come seek me out. i am martyr carrie in the corner, suffering in silence.
what makes me madder? that the churning anger lasts for like three minutes, and then i cry like the girl that i am. because, really, i just get angry when i get hurt. like a snapping turtle. but the snap doesn’t last very long, and that makes me mad. because if i still had my tough outer shell, i’d be fine.
funny. i didn’t even mean to continue the metaphor, but i did anyways. can’t escape the englishness even when i’m just spewing.
as i’m writing this, i’m hearing all of the really rational things that answer these kinds of things in my head. you know, that i really do aspire to be kind. that i really do want to serve. that it’s all worth it in the end. that i’m getting rewards and blessings that i don’t even recognize.
and then the guilt sets in, for the reactions and for the thoughts that somehow being the bigger person is the bad option.
now i just feel bad. am i not allowed to be mad? am i not allowed to feel shafted a little? am i not allowed to indulge myself in just a few minutes of raging fiery irrational female anger?